Trevor was first, of course—“Trevor Morgan, of the Mattingly Gazette,” he made sure to say—and cleared his throat.
“Barn, how’s all this feel?”
Barney coughed and moved his mouth close to the microphone in front of him. The screech made Leah jump and Allie laugh. Mabel’s eyes went from closed to open and then closed again. The microphone picked up her thick cough. Barney eased his way forward again as if the thing in front of him would bite if he weren’t careful.
“It feels good, Trev,” he said. “Real good.”
Another reporter, she from the Richmond Times-Dispatch: “Has your ticket been verified, Mr. Moore? And what will you do with the money?”
“It’s been proved, all right,” Barney said. “But I expect I’ll hang on to my ticket for a while. Can’t really speak to why. Private stuff, I reckon.”
Reggie heard the sadness in those words and wondered what it meant. He thought perhaps the Spirit was working on his old friend, stirring him, cracking his heart. As difficult as it was for him to hear Barney give voice to the war within him, a part of Reggie was comforted. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
“As for what I’ll do,” Barney continued, “we got some bills to pay. My wife, Mabel, that’s her dozin’ beside me, she’s been sickly. I’m gonna make sure she’s taken care of proper. Maybe I’ll get us a nurse to help out. I think I’ll buy her a piano. Mabel, I mean. Not the nurse. Mabel’s always loved her music, and she plays in her mind still. I don’t reckon she’ll be able to play it, though. Maybe the nurse will. An’ I gotta fix the shop up some. I own the Treasure Chest just a couple blocks over. Make toys and whatnot. I s’pose that’s how this all started. And I’ll give my tithe to the church a’course, since this is all the Lord’s doin’. That’s First Church of the Risen Christ, you can see the cross on the roof out yonder over those trees.” Barney paused so the reporters could follow the finger he pointed. None of them did. “Reverend Reggie Goggins presiding. Best church in town, at least to me. Sorry I got a little windy there, ma’am. I’m a mite nervous.”
Reggie closed his eyes and prayed that the length of Barney’s answer would drown the six words he’d said that would damn them all. He prayed, and as he did he felt his top teeth bite down on his lower lip. It was a childhood habit, one that Reggie’s mother had gone to great lengths to break. He thought of Leah and her thumbnail.
That prayer went unanswered, because the next question came from a reporter from the Charlottesville Daily Progress—“Do you think God really had a hand in your winning, Mr. Moore?”
“Ayuh,” Barney said, and then he nodded his head in case interpretation was required. “Ain’t a doubt in my mind. It’s an answered prayer for me an’ my Mabel. We was in the straits and sinkin’ for sure, but the Lord took pity on us.” He paused here again. Just in case the newspeople from Away did not take his cue for a second time (and just in case Reggie harbored any thoughts that a part of Barney’s soul was not yet lost), he added, “God don’t want nobody sufferin’ an’ poor. Y’all make sure to write that down. That’s important.”
The wolves obliged.
“How long have you been playing the lottery?”
“Not long,” Barney said. He was getting comfortable now, enjoying the attention. “Just a few months, ever since Mabel’s stroke and we ran outta money. Tried all sorts of numbers, but none worked. Then my little angel Leah came along. The Lord spoke through her.”
Leah had sat motionless since the interview began. Now she flinched at the mention of her name. Reggie didn’t see Tom in the audience and felt a tinge of respect for the city doctor. One moment, especially one as strange as their first encounter, did not offer a full picture of a man. There were muted places within every person that were hidden from all but God. Barney had taught Reggie that. He had taught Reggie that one never knew what could spring forth from the silences of the heart.
Ellen, however, sat beside Marshall and Mary Granderson in the front row. She pushed her fingers upward against the corners of her mouth, showing Leah how to smile.
“I made Leah an easel for her birthday,” Barney said. He unfolded the sheet of paper and held it up. “She drew me this as a thank-you. Purty, ain’t it?”
Cameras hissed. Leah flinched. Allie leaned over to whisper something in her ear.
“She an’ Allie here gave it to me down at my store. That’s the Treasure Chest, quality toys for a low price, open Monday through Saturday. Anyways, I was goin’ out to buy my ticket t’other night. That’s when I seen the numbers the Lord wanted me to pick. They was right there in the picture.”
Barney moved his hand over the painting. The wolves howled Leah’s name in unison, shouting their questions, smelling blood. Reggie understood then that what was before him was no longer a story, it was an event. The wolves would circle his flock in search of the weak and devour them. They would rip the seams of Mattingly and then leave as it all came apart. His town—God’s town—would never be the same.
One howl rose above the rest and asked, “Leah, how did you know the numbers?”
Reggie saw Leah’s throat move, but no words came. Her eyes reached out for her mother, begging her to do something. Ellen inched up the corners of her mouth. Reggie’s heart broke for them both. Leah looked as helpless as Mabel, who woke from her daze long enough to cough and close her eyes again.
Allie rose from her chair and stepped between Leah and Barney. She put one arm around him and the other around her friend and leaned into the microphone as if they’d just won the big game and were about to announce a trip to Disney World.
“Hey there,” she told the wolves. “My name’s Allie Granderson. That’s G-r-a-n-d-e-r-s-o-n. That’s my momma, Mary, and my daddy, Marshall, sittin’ there in the front row. Their names have the same first letter ’cause they were meant to be.” She waved. The crowd chuckled. “That’s Leah’s momma, Ellen, there too. Her daddy had to work today. He takes care of the hurtin’ folk. I’m Leah’s friend. You can write that I’m her best friend, ’cause that’s what I am.
“Anyway, Leah’s shy ’cause of the hitch in her tongue, so I’m gonna be speakin’ for her today since she just told me y’all are joltin’ her. Truth is, Leah didn’t know she was paintin’ those numbers. All she wanted to do was say thanks for the great easel Mr. Barney made her. It’s the Rainbow Man who gave Mr. Barney those numbers, and it’s the love Mr. Barney put in the easel that let him, I think. Ain’t too sure about that, though, so I reckon you better not write that down.”
A wolf shouted, “Who’s the rainbow man?”
“Leah’s friend God,” Allie said. “Y’all can’t see him, no one can but Leah. He’s prolly up here with us right now.”
Reggie bit down on his lip more. He tasted blood. Ellen froze in her seat. Her fingers moved from the corners of her mouth to her cheeks in a motion that said, Oh please no rather than Smile, baby, smile. Cameras snapped like thunder. Voices yelled Leah’s name, asking her if what Allie said was true, if she saw God and if God had picked Barney’s numbers.
Leah turned her head and smiled.
Not to the crowd or her mother or her friend, but to Reggie. Leah smiled at him and him alone—a soft grin hidden in the folds of her fear.
Reggie knew then what had happened to this little girl. She was being loved and noticed. Whatever holes had been made in her life were finally being filled, and she was letting Reggie know she would make sure it would stay that way, no matter what.
Reggie gripped the side of the oak as Leah inched toward the microphone. The crowd hushed as she spoke her only words of the morning.
“It’s truh-true.”
It was the townspeople—Reggie’s people—who reacted. Slow at first, as if they were trying to talk and understand her words at the same time, then faster. Louder. They pushed the reporters aside as they rushed the stage. Barney went for Mabel, who let out a small yelp as her eyes suddenly widened in full comprehension. Ellen became lost in the crowd and unable to rea
ch Leah, which left Allie to take the place as protector. She stood up on the banquet table with fists raised, daring anyone to come near. Sheriff Barnett, Marshall, and Big Jim Wallis tried to hold back the crowd. Reggie ran from his place by the oak to help, to beg them all to see what they had become, but it was no use. The heaven of Mattingly was gone. Now only the hell remained.
3
Technology had never been Barney Moore’s friend. He did not consider it an evil to be avoided, as did the Amish community in and around Mattingly who once frequented the Treasure Chest. Though they considered Barney an Outsider—their version, he supposed, of being from Away—they valued his old ways of doing things. It made him a kind of kin, if only in spirit.
No, technology would not steal one’s soul, as Eli Yoder once said after collecting a marble roller for his son Jonas and climbing back into his horse and buggy. Barney had refused to suckle at the teat of modernity for a different reason. The truth was that the present sought to erase the past, and Barney preferred his yesterdays.
No, that wasn’t it. The better truth was that innovation had stolen his livelihood.
The only example of modern-day-hocus pocus in his house was the cordless telephone and answering machine Mabel had won at a VFW raffle ten years ago. The Moores hadn’t needed it—their old rotary worked just fine—so the phone had remained in its box on the top shelf of the hallway closet ever since. Barney now stood on a wobbly wooden stool and prayed it was still there and would still work.
“Ha.” He turned to Mabel, who stared at him from her wheelchair in the living room. He withdrew his hand slowly from the shadows and brought the phone into sight. “Ta-da!”
Mabel clapped her hands and gurgled. In the past years Barney had become educated in that language spoken not by words but by the eyes. Mabel’s eyes spoke to him then like some inner Morse code sent from the darkness within her, telling him she was still in there somewhere. Barney wished he could arrest that moment so that time could never rob him of it.
He stepped off the stool and brought the sealed box to where Mabel sat, ducking past the window so he wouldn’t be seen. Outside, all seven parking spaces in front of the store were occupied by news vans. The crowd that had gathered after the news conference paced and talked amongst one another. Mabel coughed and placed her head on his shoulder.
“I know,” he said. “That thing at the park wore me out too. An’ I don’t mind sayin’ it scared me somethin’ fierce. Didn’t expect that many people really, though I reckon news travels fast. Ever’body acted like they ain’t seen me in years. It’s like the carnival came early.”
Mabel’s fingers moved over his forearms in a melody only she could hear. Barney pried the tape from the box in his lap. The rotary on the kitchen counter rang again. He patted Mabel on the arm and rose (mindful of the window), leaving the box with the new cordless beside her.
“Don’t know why I keep doin’ this,” he told her.
Mabel didn’t seem to know either.
Barney reached the phone on the fourth ring. He didn’t know who it would be, though he had a fair idea of what he or she would want. And though answering the phone would pain him, Barney realized that not answering it would pain him worse. Tom Norcross had been right—in the end, people just wanted to be loved.
He said hello and stretched the cord over the sofa and back to Mabel. It was Boone Davis, who ran the tire shop out on Route 420. Boone Davis, who’d refused to give Barney credit a month ago when the old Dodge needed new tires.
“Good, Boone, good.”
The customary And how you doin’? went unmentioned. It had taken a dozen calls for Barney to realize that not asking that question was best.
“Oh well, you know, Mabel’s hangin’ in there.” Barney winked. Mabel gurgled again. “She’s right here with me. Thanks for askin’.”
The Styrofoam blocks around the cordless were crisp and intact, as if Barney had just brought the box home from the Super Mart in Camden. Modern technology. Mabel was still gurgling, the people outside were still gathering, and Boone was still talking about how the dad-gummed economy was putting a hurt on his business, but all Barney could think of was how Jonas Yoder’s marble roller would one day be dust but those Styrofoam blocks would still be crisp and whole somewhere in the county landfill.
“Yep, ol’ truck still needs some new rubber. But I ain’t cashed in my ticket yet, so I still ain’t got the money.”
Barney found the cord to the cordless—a contradiction that made him chuckle. He unraveled it and plugged one end into the phone’s base and the other into the wall as Boone laughed and said that was no problem, Barney could pay him later and hey, maybe after they could go down to the diner for lunch like the good old days.
The red light on the base read 0. Barney didn’t know if that was good or bad. He decided to take a look at the instruction manual, which was currently upside down in Mabel’s hands.
“Sure, Boone, I’ll be down in a couple days . . . No, I’m gonna keep the store closed up today. Sort of a celebration with Mabel . . . Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’m pretty busy . . . Okay, I’ll see ya.”
Barney hung up the phone and switched the line from the rotary to the cordless. He sat on the sofa, mindful of the noisy spring, and showed Mabel two crossed fingers.
“I love you,” she said.
“I love you too.”
The next call came not three minutes later. The cordless chirped three times before the line picked up. A too-loud robot voice announced that no one was available at this time and to please leave a message after the beep.
“Well now,” he said. “What do you think of that, Mabel?”
Mabel coughed.
The message was from Allison Summers, who just wanted to congratulate her favorite customer and say that things had been slow down at the diner lately, real slow, and maybe Barney could pray for her “or . . . something.”
Mabel’s head lowered down and to the right. A line of spittle formed a delicate drop at the corner of her mouth. Barney wanted nothing more than to wake her—to talk, even if that conversation would be nothing more than banter with a child, because at least that child would want nothing more than his company. It was not the first time Barney envied Mabel and the gray curtain that was suspended between her and all else. The world could do nothing more to her.
He wiped the side of her mouth with his hand, kissed her cheek, and wheeled her into the bedroom. Her frail arms swung free as he lowered her into bed. Barney checked her diaper and her breathing and then lay down beside her. Sleep was close when a knock came at the front door.
Wonderful. Now they weren’t just calling, they were popping in. Even with the BLIMEY, CLOSED sign on the window. He eased out of bed and closed the bedroom door, then made his way down the hall. Knocking again. Barney rubbed the tired eyes beneath his glasses and opened the door.
Neither he nor his visitor spoke until Barney chanced a smile and said, “Hey, Reggie.”
“Hey, Barney.” The preacher looked at him and then into the spartan living room. The phone rang. “Hope you don’t mind that I snuck in through the back door of your shop. I figure you’re busy, but you got a minute?”
“Sure.” The answering machine did its No one is available now chatter and recorded a dial tone. Good, Barney thought, until he realized the caller would simply try again later. “Come on in.”
Reggie limped into the room in front of the open window. Before Barney could warn him, shouts came from the parking lot below. Reggie ducked away and sat down on the sofa’s good cushion. The knee of his jeans was torn, showing thin tendrils of drying blood. He rubbed it and offered an awkward smile.
“What happened to your leg?” Barney asked.
“Bumped it a little bit ago against the newspaper box at the park. It’s fine.”
Barney nodded. “Mabel’s sleepin’.”
Reggie waved him off. “That’s okay. I’m here to see you, anyway.” There was a mix of anger and disappointment in
his eyes, like a father who’d just caught his son with a girlie magazine. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at church, what with all the commotion. Or after. After, I just didn’t feel like I could. But I guess that commotion wasn’t near today’s. This all took me by surprise, you know?”
“Kinda took me by surprise too, Reggie.” Barney moved to the couch, mindful of the window and the spring, and sat next to the preacher. “But I had to share a witness. It was an answered prayer. I knowed it’d upset you, though, an’ I’m sorry. I know how you rail on the lotto.”
“There was a time when you did too, Barney.”
Yes, Barney thought, but that was before the gutter of last resort. That was before the prayers had turned sour and the God of Blessing became the God of Cruelty.
“Coulda used you down at the park earlier. That was a sight.”
“I was there,” Reggie told him. “In the back, away from everybody. I wasn’t going to go, I’ll tell you that, though it wasn’t for lack of love for you and Mabel and even those girls. Thank God the sheriff was there, or you’d all been crushed or worse.”
The phone rang. No one is available . . .
Reggie pointed at the phone and said, “That’s new.”
Barney sighed and nodded. “People been callin’. Everybody, mostly. It was nice when it started ’cause most of them people ain’t talked to me in years. Things’re just so busy nowadays. People don’t say hi no more.”
Reggie looked at him again. This time Barney saw another look in Reggie’s eyes, one he couldn’t decipher.
“But then I figured it best if I just let the machine talk for a bit. They say Good job, Barney, and I expect that’s what they really mean right off, but then it all turns to Gimme this, Barney. It ain’t that I don’t have a heart for the hurtin’, Reggie. You know I do. Lord knows me an’ Mabel seen our share of distress. I plan on helpin’ plenty once I cash my ticket an’ figure out who wants outta need and who wants outta want. But I gotta give my tithe first. You can be sure of that.”
“I can’t take your money, Barney.”
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